


Afterward

by voleuse



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-30
Updated: 2004-09-30
Packaged: 2017-10-05 06:43:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Nothing is changed</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afterward

**Author's Note:**

> Set after "Home." Title and summary adapted from _After Love_ by Maxine Kumin.

Oz is in New Orleans when he finds out.

He's staying in a hostel, which is rare, but the temperature's been up in the high eighties, and he's never gotten used to the humidity, so he dug through his backpack and found the cash for a few days with his own private air conditioner.

For once, he's woken up early enough to catch the tail end of breakfast. He's still recovering from the last full moon, so when he enters the dining room greeted only by the black and white TV in the corner, he's a little relieved. It usually doesn't take him so long to get back on track, but he's had a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach for a while, and he's hoping it's just a lack of potassium in his diet.

He's considering the merits of eating lukewarm grits when he hears the announcer mention Sunnydale, California. He turns his attention to the screen, and that's when he realizes where the funny feeling came from.

*

 

He catches a bus, then hitchhikes, then takes a bus, and then another bus. He's on a budget and it's slow going, but he can't stay in one place. He can't get anyone on the phone, not from Los Angeles, and not from the gaping pit that used to be Sunnydale.

He spends the next full moon in a cornfield in Kansas, and when he comes to, he thinks that Xander would appreciate the funny of this particular romp.

He hopes Xander's still alive to hear about it.

He catches a few more buses, drawing cash from ATMs when he can find them.

The next ride he hitches brings him to Vegas.

He's standing at the bus terminal, wondering where his next destination should be, when someone strolls up behind him.

"Daniel Osbourne?"

Her voice reminds him of New Orleans.

He turns his head slightly, only far enough to see her out of the corner of his eye. She's a tall, gorgeous, and very dead woman. Not a vampire, as far as he can smell. He turns around.

"They call you Oz, right?" She tilts her head, bringing his attention to the scar on her neck, mostly concealed by a scarf.

"Maybe," he answers. "What do they call you?"

"Vicious bitch, usually," she says with a smirk. "But you can call me Lilah."

*

 

It's only after she hands him her card, gives him Willow's cell phone number, and describes the precise smell of Angel's hair gel, that he consents to having a drink with her.

They take a limo ride to the Bellagio, and when they enter the lobby, a man in a suit that can only be described as "discreet" appears and leads them up, down, and around to a swanky looking bar.

"Is it open?" he asks, peering down the entrance corridor, cordoned off with velvet rope.

Their attendant inclines his head, suggesting that he would bow if they tipped him well enough, and makes a sweeping gesture with his arm. "It is for you, Signor. Signorina." His Italian accent is very, very bad.

Lilah smirks again and steps around the rope, walking down the hallway. Oz follows, badly-speaking-Italian doesn't.

The place is empty, aside from a guy behind the bar and a waitress standing by a low table in the center of the room.

Oz pauses, then shrugs. Takes the seat the waitress indicates, and picks up the menu. Scans it briefly, but doesn't find what he's looking for. He glances at the waitress, beseeching. "Sake?"

She nods. "Of course." She turns to Lilah. "And you?"

Lilah rattles off the names of several appetizers, and adds a bottle of cognac to her list of requests. The waitress brightens, then rushes out the door, presumably to the kitchen.

Their drinks are out in a matter of seconds, it seems, and Lilah has a fascinating habit of taking a sip of brandy, then propping her chin on her hands. It makes the white gold on her wrists glint in the low light, and Oz catches a glimpse of diamonds.

He's in the middle of consuming something that tastes like vodka and rich salt when Lilah clears her throat.

"My proposal?"

Oz gulps the tidbit down, then shakes his head. "Phone first."

"Absolutely." She hands him her cell phone, watches him as he dials the number. No one picks up, but it's Willow's voice on the message center greeting. "Satisfied?"

Oz hands the phone back to her. "For now."

"Then," she punctuates the word by running her toe over his ankle, a bit of a feat, considering their low-slung chairs, "I suggest we take this somewhere more comfortable."

*

 

The penthouse suite, Oz thinks, is entirely too large for one person.

"You can have it, if you want," Lilah says. They're sitting in the dining room, and she slides a manila folder across the table to him. "I'm not going to be in town for much longer."

"Too much furniture." Oz picks up the folder. "What's next?"

Lilah smiles. "For me?" She stands up, walks across the room, shedding her jacket and high heels. "Los Angeles, maybe. Milan. The sixth circle of hell. Boston."

"Ah." Oz takes a second to scan the contract inside the folder, but he already knows what his answer will be.

"No, right?" Lilah reclines on the couch across the room. "Figures."

"Yeah." Oz stands, walks towards the door. "Sorry. Thanks for dinner."

Lilah follows him. "Not a problem." Runs a hand over his shoulder. "There's nothing else I can do for you?"

Oz shakes his head. "There's nothing I want from Wolfram and Hart," he says, precisely.

Lilah grins in a way anybody but Oz would describe as "wolfish."

Then she kisses him, hands sliding down to unbutton and unzip, and he smiles against her lips.

They don't stumble as they make their way to the couch, shedding blouse and shoes and jeans and T-shirt, until Lilah's slouching in nothing but a black lace bra and thigh-high stockings, and Oz is wearing nothing at all.

He kneels on the floor and unrolls the stockings from her legs, pausing to lick broad strokes across the soles of her feet, chuckling when she jerks away.

"Ticklish?"

She nods, so he slides up again, dipping his head between the frame of Lilah's thighs. She gasps, a strangled sound, when his tongue dips in, and he hums. Circles her clit, slides two fingers into her, and her hips arch off the couch.

It's been a while since he's done this, but it's kind of like riding a bike, Oz thinks, listening to her whimper as she comes, sooner than he expected, and again as he continues.

He's set himself a goal of three, but one of her hands snakes into his hair, pulling him up the length of her body until they're face to face, and she doesn't kiss him, but bites his bottom lip and growls.

"_Now._"

She shoves him by the shoulders, and he lands on the carpet with a faint thump. He's barely registered the change in angle when she's straddled him, plunging onto his cock without prelude.

His hips buck awkwardly, but he regains his composure quickly enough, twisting his hips, making her gasp as she undulates. He reaches up, flicks open the front clasp of her bra, slides his hands behind her shoulders and pulls her down, taking one of her breasts in her mouth and grinding against her in a new and different way.

She braces her hands on either side of his head, then rears back, runs her nails down his chest, over his belly, digging deep enough to cause welts. Bends again, kisses him, stroking his tongue with hers, twitches in just the right way, and something sparks behind Oz's eyes, at the bottom of his spine, and he's coming.

When he returns to the present, he's still inside of Lilah, and she hasn't come yet. He smiles, apologetic, strokes at the place where they're joined, and it must be just enough, because Lilah comes for a third time, sharply with a quiet shriek.

She collapses against his chest, and he rolls them both onto their sides, withdrawing from her with a groan.

He listens to her breathe for a few minutes, waiting.

Then she laughs, a low, chocolate sound, and he likes the look in her eyes.

"I think there's a bedroom in here, somewhere."

Oz smiles.


End file.
